


Two Red Fingers

by FiascoWay



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiascoWay/pseuds/FiascoWay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>EPISODE TAG TO 4x24: A Crimson Hat. What if Jane's rescue arrived a few seconds too late? How many set backs can one man take in his pursuit for vengeance and what damage can he do to those who care too much? This story examines how one action can entirely change the course of Jane and Lisbon's lives. *COMPLETE*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Red Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> The idea behind this story haunted me for months, to the point where I finally had to get it down on the page. I was troubled by the thought of how simple it is for someone to fall between the cracks of society. This story is an episode tag to the season 4 finale: The Crimson Hat. It muses on how differently Jane's story may have gone if the rescue came only a few seconds too late.
> 
> In many ways this story was enabled by Gray Doll who really opened my eyes to another way of writing about The Mentalist. A big thanks as well to Hayseed Socrates for beta-ing this story and confirming my suspicions on what needed further work.
> 
> This is my first work posted to AO3! Feel free to be frank and honest with your feedback, I can take it :-)
> 
> Disclaimer: I hold no rights to The Mentalist and do not profit in any way from publishing this story.

 

_“Cut off two of his fingers, you choose which…”_

Jane’s bowels turned to water at that chilling pronouncement. His normally quick mind became paralysed with terror as he was manhandled out of the limousine. His intense fear brought a crystalline sharpness to the image of Lorelei with the shears in her hand. He was pressed against the car, babbling in terror as his seductress prepared to take further liberties with his body.

He felt the sharpness of the blade on his ring finger even as he heard the sound of sirens and cars. For a second his heart surged in hope and then he heard the shears snip shut with a horribly fleshy crunch. A burning flash of pain went off in his head. Before he could even cry out there was another blossom of pain, then he was shoved to the ground. Car doors slammed and tires screeched but he was beyond caring, even when other cars flashed past and there was the sound of gunshots.

He looked at the ground and saw two thin sausages leaking blood into the dust. His wedding band was still around the one and Jane felt his insides squeeze in horror. He hid his left hand behind his back, too scared to look. If he didn’t see the damage it might not be real. His legs gave out from under him and he made an inhuman keening sound. He became aware of the sound of blood dripping to the ground. Closing his eyes he clamped his hand under his armpit and started rocking himself to and fro.  

The next thing he knew Lisbon was with him. “Jane!” She shouted. “What happ…” She saw the little tadpoles of flesh on the ground. “Oh my God! Jane. What happened Jane? Show me your hand!”

Jane shook his head in mute terror. He tried to talk but no words came.

Lisbon’s face contorted in pain and horror. “Oh Jane,” she whispered.   She whipped out her phone and called for an ambulance. While giving the details she fished out an evidence bag from her back pocket and steeling herself, scooped the fingers inside. Jane’s ring gleamed palely from inside the bag. She looked at Jane, who was beyond lost. Heart aching in sympathy she sat down beside him and put a hesitant arm around his shoulder.

“Shhh its Ok, its Ok. They’re on their way. We can fix this. Just keep the pressure on and everything will be Ok.” Jane shivered besides her like a frightened child.

“She cut of my fingers, Lisbon. She cut them off!”

“We’ll fix it. It’s Ok. It’s Ok,” Lisbon whispered over and over.   But it was not OK and deep down she knew it. Even as her consultant began to calm she could feel him start to withdraw. Physically he was still there, but somewhere inside he was going away.

At the hospital Jane appeared to regain some of his senses but that only made things worse. He refused to have the fingers re-attached. Point blank refused despite Lisbon’s pleading and that of the medical staff. He only consented to go into surgery once he’d extracted a promise from everyone there they wouldn’t attempt to save his fingers. As he was prepped for surgery a nurse pressed something into Lisbon’s hand. She looked down and saw it was the wedding ring.

Lisbon clenched it in her left fist, shocked more than anything that such a key part of Jane’s identity could be stripped from him. Then her Blackberry trilled and Lisbon was plunged into the world of inter-agency accusations and politicking. She fought hard to maintain her professionalism as the whole mess was slowly sorted out by people in distant offices more motivated by self-interest than any sense of justice.   By the time Lisbon had a moment’s respite she had a splitting headache. She was sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, massaging her temples when a nurse’s light touch caused her to jump. Jane was out of surgery.

Lisbon hurried to the recovery room.   Jane was sitting in bed, pale faced but otherwise healthy. His bandaged hand was kept in a sling across his chest.

“Hey there,” Lisbon began hesitantly. She looked down at her left hand and became aware it was cramping painfully. She opened it to see his wedding band in her palm. “I kept your ring safe. Would you like it back?”

Jane gave her a broken smile. He gestured with his bandaged hand. “You keep it, Lisbon. I don’t have anywhere to wear it anymore.”

She felt her lips tighten in anger and concern. She looked at her partner and realised things were way off. “Are you OK?”

He focussed on her and for a second it was the old Jane. “He’s gone, Lisbon. Someone from the FBI tipped him off and he never showed. All that work, the sacrifices I made, it was for nothing.”

Lisbon implored him with her eyes. “Don’t give up Jane. It’s a setback but that’s all. We’ll get him, I know we will.”

Jane shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, Lisbon. I don’t think I have anything left. You don’t know the things I did to get to this point.”

“Yes, I do,” said Lisbon. “It’s not so bad. Assault, possession, fraud… With a good lawyer you might not do any time…”

“I betrayed my wife!” Jane cried in anguish.

Lisbon looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Jane glanced at Lisbon and then looked down. “I slept with Lorelei.” He whispered. “I thought the ends would justify the means but I failed. I betrayed Angela for nothing.”

Lisbon felt sick to her stomach. She tried to conceal her disgust and disappointment but failed.  
Angela wasn’t the only one he’d betrayed.

Jane collapsed backwards.   “When I made my vows I promised myself I would keep them forever. She was the only woman I’d ever been with and that was how it was meant to be. I threw that away in the worst possible way and for what?” He picked at his sheets with his good hand. “Lorelei’s dead isn’t she,” he said with a resigned voice.

Lisbon nodded. “Killed in a hail of FBI bullets.” Her expression hardened. “Wainwright too.”

Janes closed his eyes. “Poor Luther, he was out of his depth and didn’t even know it. Well…” He released a long breath. “I guess it’s the end of the line for me. Are they waiting outside to arrest me?”

Lisbon shook her head. “I managed to convince them you were in no condition to be arrested. You have 48 hours here to recover and then they will press formal charges. There’ll be a guard outside so don’t try any funny stuff.”

Jane smiled sadly at Lisbon. “Don’t worry Teresa. I’m all funnied out. I’ll be here when they come to arrest me.” His tone shifted to one of concern. “You should go and get some rest. You look terrible. Go.”

Lisbon stood rooted to the spot, her heart aching with the devastation she could see pressing down on her friend.

Jane’s expression softened. “Lisbon. It’s Ok. None of this is your fault. You’ve been a true and selfless friend but it’s time to let me face the consequences on my own. Go, get some rest and then look after the team.   I’m not going anywhere.”

Lisbon stared at Jane in mute agony. She fought to find the right words but nothing came out, only tears. Jane reached out with his good hand and brushed them away as his face turned sorrowful. “Please go,” he said, his own eyes beginning to brim. “I don’t deserve your tears.”

Jane had made a lot of enemies in law enforcement and his few friends had little pull in Nevada. For once the wheels of justice were quick to turn and his day in court materialised with record speed.

It was hard for Lisbon and the team to watch. The man who’d danced his way around judges and lawyers for years refused to take any interest in his own defence. While his mid-range lawyer answered on his behalf, Jane just stared into the distance. His fingers danced nervously, touching and retouching themselves as he counted his fingers with his thumbs, hesitating over the two stumps on his left hand.

The jury took barely half an hour to deliberate before handing down a guilty verdict. The judge was equally hasty in sentencing Jane to three years prison with a minimum term of eighteen months.

The rest of the team had worries of their own. Lisbon’s agents were officially reprimanded for their role in the fiasco while she herself was handed a one month suspension. It was no comfort this was likely the last time Jane would get her in trouble. If nothing else his criminal record meant the doors of the CBI would be forever closed to him.

Jane served his time out of state and Lisbon only visited once. It was the first week of her suspension, which made it over a fortnight since he’d been imprisoned. Lisbon leaned forward in the uncomfortable plastic chair, elbows resting on the table. She didn’t even notice the other prisoners and their families in the large soulless chamber. Her attention was fully focussed on the door through which he would enter.

Her heart dropped as she saw the thin figure shuffle his way to her table. The person resembled Jane but was missing his vital essence. He sported the fading remains of a black eye and there was a fresh cut at the corner of his mouth. As he caught sight of Lisbon he visibly pulled himself together and like the sun coming from behind the clouds he dazzled her with a familiar smile. He held it until he sat down and winced in pain.

Lisbon drank in his appearance, both shocked and mesmerised by the changes she saw. Jane’s hair hung limp and lifeless, his face was more drawn than she had ever seen it. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes darted nervously here and there. They had become as restless as his fingers. When Lisbon placed her hand atop his he jumped at the contact.

Lisbon tried to hide her dismay but was betrayed by her eyes which brimmed with tears. “Oh Jane, “ she managed to choke out.

His eyes briefly stopped their shifting and focussed on his only remaining friend. “It’s OK,” he said gesturing vaguely at himself with his maimed left hand. “This is nothing, just a body, a shell. It doesn’t matter what happens to it.” He smiled and tapped at his temple. “All that matters is what’s up here. When things get bad I just visit my memory palace.” His face became wistful. “They are there waiting for me; Angie and Charlotte. I keep them alive inside my head.”

Lisbon gulped painfully, her vision blurred. “Jane…”

“… Don’t,” he chided her gently. “You’re still alive, Lisbon!” For a second his face shifted to something more like his old self. “He didn’t take you from me. That makes me happy and it’s time you were happy too. Your life is precious, Teresa. Go live your precious life. Find a man to love, have children… Forget about me. I’m not worth it.”

Lisbon shook her head in denial “… No.”

Jane grasped her gently by the shoulders. “Be well, Teresa. I have a room for you in my palace as well, you know. You don’t need to visit me here, I have all our best moments locked away for a rainy day.” He smiled at her as she threw herself forward with a gasp and clung awkwardly to him, crying into his shoulder. She sobbed for several minutes until she came to the awareness her friend was sitting completely motionless.

She sat back and tried to wipe her tears and snot away with the back of her leather jacketed arm. Jane was staring off into the distance, with a half-smile tacked onto his slackened face. With a tremendous effort of will Lisbon pulled herself together and then stood. She had to leave before she lost it completely. She forced herself to lean forward and give him a kiss on the cheek.

Jane started, as if tripping over a distant memory. “Jane kissed a girl,” he whispered. Then like magic he was all there again. He stood up as well and this time it was his eyes brimming with tears. He enclosed Lisbon in a tight hug and clung to her for a few long seconds. Then he tore himself away. “This is goodbye, Teresa. Please don’t come again. I won’t be accepting any more visitors while I’m here.”

Lisbon struggled to respond but just then a guard placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder. He flinched and just like that he seemed to shrink in on himself. The eyes started darting again, his fingers resumed their nervous ticks. He didn’t even glance her way as he docilely allowed himself to be led back to out of the room.

Time passed and Lisbon worked harder and longer than ever before. Partially to undo the damage done to her career but mainly to avoid thinking too much about Jane. His ring troubled her. She considered putting it on the chain around her neck but didn’t want to deal with the awkward questions it would provoke. Wearing it elsewhere was out of the question and yet she couldn’t face the thought of just putting it in a jewellery box. It ended up on her bedside table where she resolutely tried to ignore it.

Before she knew it, Jane was due to be paroled. Lisbon drove to Nevada the day of his release. She was resolved to somehow rehabilitate her former consultant. Conveniently her boyfriend had broken up with her a few weeks ago, or had he merely drifted away through neglect? In honesty she barely remembered or cared. As she grew older she found the only thing worse than waking up alone was waking up with someone who felt like a stranger.

Liston and her mustang were waiting outside the processing facility. She tried to appear casual, leaning against her car. She’d elected to conceal her feelings behind dark glasses and a broad brimmed hat. The second she saw him she realised her pose was superfluous.   The ticks were still there, the shifty eyes, animal fear…   Then he saw her and the brilliant smile came out of hiding, the one he kept just for her, warming her through to her core. She opened the passenger door and then walked around to the driver’s side and got in, not trusting herself with a hug.

She took him home to her apartment where the spare bedroom was made up. Jane sat wordlessly on her couch and consumed as many cups of tea as she was willing to make. They barely spoke. Lisbon was scared to ask and Jane had no desire to speak of his time in prison. The sun went down and Jane excused himself to have a shower that seemed to last half the evening. He went directly to bed afterwards.

Lisbon sat in the living room and drank nearly a full bottle of dark red wine. As she staggered upstairs she paused a long moment outside his bedroom. She heard whimpering noises from inside. She took a step forward and then fled to her room as her courage failed her. That night Jane got up at least three times to take further showers.

The next day was Friday which Lisbon had taken as a personal day. She got up late and mildly hung over. Jane was back in her living room wearing the same clothes as the day before. His left thumb worked continuously over the stumps of his missing fingers as he stared sightlessly at the shuttered windows.

They both pretended they were OK, which was almost worse than Jane’s silent breakdown the previous night. When Jane abruptly got up to go for a walk Lisbon didn’t even argue.

As the weekend moved at a painful crawl, Lisbon felt herself drowning in a sense of helplessness. She exercised, shopped, cleaned, tried to catch Jane up on trivial things with the old team. Jane was with her and then he wasn’t. Either tuned out or gone for one of his progressively longer walks. At least he no longer looked like a hunted animal and there were no more sounds from his room at night.

She bought him the basics; toiletries, simple clothes. He nodded and smiled at each gift but looked like he didn’t know what to do with them. On Sunday afternoon he told her he had to go. Lisbon didn’t bother trying to hide her dismay, or her relief. She stuffed all the money she had into his jacket pocket and then pulled him into a tight hug. Their goodbye was their only honest moment for the whole weekend.

They clung together like orphans, both crying and seeking comfort from the other. They held on until their tears had time to dry and then stepped apart by mutual agreement. Jane took a shuddering breath. “Goodbye Lisbon, be good to yourself.”

Lisbon nodded as she fought fresh tears. “You know you can always come back to me, no matter what trouble you’re in. Just…” her emotions overcame her and she turned away, a frightened teenager again.  

Life went on and the seasons turned. People still murdered each other and Lisbon spent most of her time catching them. A few men drifted in and out of her limited social awareness. One of them even made the mistake of casting his heart onto her rocky shore.

Lisbon didn’t actively keep tabs on Jane, she didn’t need to. Her contacts in the CBI and SAC PD took a perverse delight in keeping her up to date on every minor brush with the law, every new humiliation. He floated in and around Sacramento; minor cons, a little bit of drinking, a few drugs. He was even sent away for a three month stretch.

Every now and then Lisbon would rally her hopes and take him in, clean him up. It was the same routine; long showers, longer walks. Staring at nothing while his remaining fingers picked and twitched and danced. Lisbon would demand to know what the matter was. First calm, then angry, then tearful. She would plead for him to fix himself, or allow her to do it. Jane would smile sadly and then slip away before her eyes. He was like the wind, like smoke. She would usher him into her apartment but he would gradually fade back out again before her eyes.

After a few days it would grow too much for either to bear and they would part in tears, each time as if it was the last.

Jane started running out of his store of cons and tricks. He no longer cared enough to muster the effort. He spiralled lower and lower until he was living on the streets. It was there he finally found some measure of peace. He was back to his roots, performing tricks for spare change, delighting children with his legerdemain while their mothers looked at him with something other than child-like innocence.

Like a rogue planet caught in the gravity of a dying sun Lisbon found herself walking the streets where he was apt to perform. She’d hang to the back, watching as he went through his routines, shabby yet smart with a suit that was shiny with age and dirt. Underneath his skin was incongruously clean. The crowds would be mostly children and women. Jane might be half the man he was but that was still much more than most of his kind.

He would work his tricks, hands moving so quickly they almost concealed the damage done to them. His patter was entertaining but meaningless, pouring forth like water from a fountain and with about as much depth. Women and children laughed, women and children watched. Women of a certain age looked at him with hungry eyes. Lisbon would wait until the end of the show and then hurry past, dropping a $20 on the blanket at his feet. Jane pretended not to recognise her, or perhaps he truly didn’t.

One night Lisbon had a fight with her boyfriend, or rather sat and listened to him trying to start a fight until it because all too tedious and she walked out. She wandered through the central district and saw Jane performing in the waning light. This time there were no children, just women.

Something made Lisbon stay hidden in the shadows.   Jane seemed oblivious to the fact he wasn’t playing to his usual crowd. He kept up the same tricks, the same patter. When he finished a shower of small bills landed at his feet. As he collected them a well-dressed woman waited patiently nearby. Her gaze was hungry, predatory. She took Jane by the arm and led him away.

Lisbon followed, her heart pounding in her chest. They got into an expensive car and slid off into the night. Lisbon noted the license plate, then paced up and down in indecision. Eventually she made the call and got the address.

She suffered a further bought of indecision when she parked outside of the expensive house in a well to do neighbourhood. It was none of her business, there were no laws being broken. Yet the way the she-tiger had led her lamb away was profoundly disturbing. The decision to act steadied her nerves and she strode towards the house. As always, clarity came with action.

The lights were on and the drapes undrawn. Jane was leaning back on a large leather couch. He’d been dressed in an expensive silk bathrobe, partially open. The woman was crouched between his open legs. Jane was completely motionless, eyes staring at nothing, just a shell laid out for someone’s amusement. It was more than Lisbon could take.

“Open the door, this is the CBI!” With no answer forthcoming a round from her glock punched through the lock. In the living room the vixen was backed against the wall, anger and fear fighting for dominance. Jane barely reacted at all, just sat exposed and tumescent, as if nothing was the matter, as if he was just there to do a little palm reading.

The sight of Lisbon, eyes flashing, gun drawn, re-ignited a forgotten part of his brain and his face lit up in a smile. “Hey Lisbon, what are you doing here?” He stood up and unselfconsciously re-wrapped his robe. Lisbon holstered her gun as well. “There’s no need to get violent, you know. None of this matters.”

He peered at her with something of his old perceptiveness. “You’re really upset. OK, let’s go.” He steered her out of the house even as the frustrated cougar started to heap abuse upon Lisbon, threating her with innumerable dire consequences.

Their return to Lisbon’s flat was somewhat complicated by the presence of her angry boyfriend but that was resolved with the promise to drop the rest of his stuff off on the weekend. Jane unconcernedly took a shower for the duration of the fight.

Jane emerged from her bathroom in the same silk robe and sat on her couch. The parallels made Lisbon’s skin crawl. Luckily the old Jane was still in residence and for a brief time they argued like old friends. Then Jane’s fingers started their nervous dance and when Lisbon grabbed them his feet jittered in their place. She watched the spark from his eyes fade. In anger and frustration she kissed him fiercely on the lips but he just lay there unresisting like a warm fleshy doll. It was at that moment she truly lost hope and her moment of angry passion dissolved into tears.

After a time his hands tangled themselves in her hair and tried to smooth away the hurt. He stroked her with patience and kindness and when the tears gave way to exhausted snores he left the room. He dressed himself in her ex-boyfriends clothes and paused by her tiny, vulnerable body on the way out. “I’m sorry, he whispered.” He placed a hand on her head in farewell and then drifted off into the night.

Lisbon avoided his haunts for a long time after that. She buried Jane’s ring in the dirt of Angela’s grave and finally allowed herself to grieve. Her child bearing years had passed her by so she got herself a dog and a widower who understood.

It was a few years later that she found herself dragged back into Jane’s an orbit like a reformed alcoholic falling back into old habits. Her reluctant feet dragged her back to his familiar haunts. There he was, older, more decrepit, but still recognisably Jane despite the crooked nose and missing tooth. The crowd was much the same, mostly women and children. More children than women these days. Lisbon hid on the fringes and watched the crowd watch Jane. She didn’t stay long, just for a little taste, a furtive nip.

After that first time it happened more frequently. She’d seek him out, listen to the familiar patter, watch the crowd. She slowly became aware of another discreet observer. A silver haired man of average height. He appeared plain, unremarkable and yet he watched Jane with an intensity that rivalled the one he’d commanded from the hungry women.

The man wasn’t there every time and he didn’t stay long even when he was. Lisbon saw him just enough to be disturbed, like the first pang of remorse to a guilty conscience. Jane just danced and clowned and prattled on, seemingly oblivious.

It was a cold Autumn day when Lisbon’s court appearance was cancelled and a restless whim took her in search of Jane. Her junky feet dragged her from one of his haunts to the next, her apprehension growing with every miss. A light rain was falling as she approached a little plaza he liked to play. There was no sign of Jane but as she looked around she saw her fellow stalker stagger from an ally.

Lisbon rushed forwards, weapon drawn. The man leaned gasping against the wall and shouted weakly for help. Behind him she spotted another man bleeding face down on the ground. With a groan he turned himself over. It was Jane.

With a cry Lisbon knelt at Jane’s side. Blood was pumping black and thick from a wound in his chest. She dropped her firearm and tried to staunch the bleeding. “Lisbon…” he croaked. He shut his eyes as if to ease the pain but then a sound made him snap them open again.

A pistol shot rang out and Lisbon heard a body drop behind her. She spun around and saw the stalker sprawled on the ground, a hole punched neatly between the eyes. A clatter of noise had Lisbon spinning around again to see her glock on the ground beneath Jane’s nerveless hand.

His eyes, wide open and alert, stared straight into hers. “I got him, Lisbon. Finally I got him. That was Red John.” He smiled with genuine relief and pride until a bloody cough shattered his moment of triumph. Lisbon tried to staunch the bleeding with one hand while dialling 911 with the other. Jane’s three fingered hand enfolded hers before she could complete the call.

“Let me go, Lisbon,” he gasped. “This was always how it was going to end.”

Lisbon jerked her hand free. “No it wasn’t! You’ve won! Don’t throw that away…”

“…I’m sorry,” Jane interrupted. “I… have nothing left. This was my final con and I had to bet the house.   Please let me go.” He closed his eyes in pain and exhaustion.

Lisbon shook her head and tried to make her trembling fingers dial the number. Jane batted weakly at her hand before giving up. “I can see them Lisbon,” he said in a voice filled with wonder. “Angie and Charlotte, they are surrounded by a warm light. They forgive me and are waiting for me to join them!”

Lisbon dropped her phone and wailed in pain. She was losing him and deserved better than to be fobbed off with another lie. He was dying as he lived, a con man to the end. She pulled him to her chest, regardless of his wounds. “Shut up Jane. Just shut up and let me say good bye.”

“Lisbon…”

“Shut up!” She clutched him even closer, as tears drowned her vision. “I need to say the words. You need to hear them. I love you, you stupid, selfish bastard. OK? I didn’t want to but I do.” Lisbon dissolved in wretched sobs, all sense control or dignity gone.

Jane’s bloody lips gently brushed her ear. “I love you too, Lisbon...” he sighed, part admission and part apology. “… but I couldn’t let go of losing them.”


End file.
